


Sunrise, A World Away

by starship_nebuchadnezzar



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Temporary Character Death, big big angst, its about steve's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 00:25:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14344095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starship_nebuchadnezzar/pseuds/starship_nebuchadnezzar
Summary: Steve was sitting in the cockpit when the plane crashed.He was defrosted curled up underneath his shield.





	Sunrise, A World Away

“I don’t want to step on your toes,” 

Although he knew it was coming, his heart still lept in fear as the ice sheet loomed closer and closer, as the impact jarred his bones. 

“Peggy! Peggy can you read me? Captain Rogers to Agent Carter are you responding!”

There was nothing but static on the line. The radio transmitter had probably frosted over. Nothing to do but wait, he thought darkly, watching the water from his breath turn to ice.

The serum had served him well throughout the sub-zero French nights, but he knew it was a matter of time before the shivers became more than an inconvenience.

At least he could watch the sunrise. It was a beautiful one too. This far north, there was very little smoke in the air, and the clouds had wrung themselves dry. It had been a very long time since he’d had anything but charcoal and a sketchbook, but Steve doubted that even the set of paints that he had left in Brooklyn would have been able to capture the piercing clarity of blue and watery yellow he saw before him.

The paints had been a gift from Bucky in the weeks before he had left to go to the war. Steve had wondered where Buck had managed to get the money for an expensive gift like that—of course now he knew: Bucky had never expected to come home from the war.

_“Stevie, come back inside, you’ll freeze to death out there”_

_“Hang on Buck, I’m almost done.”_

_“…wouldn’ta bought you those damn paints if I knew you were going to waste them drawing me,” Bucky muttered, stretching his arms and legs out as far into the hazy morning light as they could go._

_Bucky’s cat stretch had ruined the folds of the blanket, and that mid-dream smile had slipped off his face, so the painting was a lost cause anyway. Steve carefully put the paints back into his bag and let Bucky help him in from the fire escape._

_“Jesus, Stevie, your hands are like ice cubes. What’s the point of me making you take the bed by the radiator every night if you’re just going to sneak out over me anyway?” Bucky sounded angry, but the warmth of his calloused hands rubbing circles over Steve’s back made him realize that Bucky may have had a point._

_“So let’s see it then,” Bucky concluded._

_Steve started, realizing that Bucky was still speaking. “C’mon Rogers, let me see the painting that was worth you probably getting bronchitis again.”_

_Steve felt two spots of warmth bloom in his cheeks as Bucky looked at the painting. His eyes softened and the fear drained out of his body._

__He wondered what would happen to that painting. He’d left it with Bucky’s family when he shipped off overseas. Somehow it didn’t seem right to imagine Bucky’s family looking at it, at that gentle sunrise. It felt like that morning had belonged to him and Bucky alone.

His fingers were starting to burn and pop, and he had to shield his eyes dazzle of morning light against the snow. At least Bucky’s family was safe. All of Brooklyn was safe. And in a way Steve was glad that it had been him. He didn’t have a sweetheart to get back to. Not really. Peggy would probably have married him, but she deserved better than to live her life in his shadow.

There wasn’t much of a life for him back home anyway. No family, no Bucky, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to go back to selling bonds for the government. Seeing Bucky, strong solid Bucky who he always knew could survive anything, fall from the train had shattered any illusions that he would ever make it home safe.

It was for the best, all around.

His toes were starting to feel strangely warm. A small voice in the back of Steve’s mind knew that this was a very bad sign but suddenly he couldn’t remember why.

“Easy there, Stevie,” a familiar voice said.

“B-buck?” He stammered, feeling his tongue start to crystalize.

“Easy there. I’m here.” Everywhere Bucky touched felt laced with fire. It made sense. Bucky had always been a furnace in those other nights where he was some illness or another left him shivering in the cold New York winters. He must be very sick this time, if Bucky had stayed home after the sun rose to take care of him.

Almost as soon as Steve realized he was crying (when had he started?) Bucky’s warm fingers were there, brushing the tears away.

And then Bucky bent down to kiss him, their first kiss, although it felt like the next of a thousand and the first of a thousand more, and the warmth burst all through him.

Too warm. He felt like he had swallowed their furnace and he pushed Bucky off of him almost against his will.

“Let’s get you back to bed, Stevie,” Bucky said with no anger.

He wanted to argue, wanted to tell Bucky that he never finished his painting, but Bucky was right: he was tired. Ever so gently, Bucky led him to his ratty mattress and guided him down. Something in Steve shimmered at the sight of Bucky’s familiar smile. He pulled his blanket over him, a new one, printed with stars and stripes. It wasn’t very comfortable—it almost felt like metal, but he knew how hard Bucky had worked for it.

He was teetering on the edge of sleep, but there was something he had forgotten

“Night, Buck,” he whispered. “Love you.”


End file.
